"Yumichika …"

" … Nani?"

"Let's play a game."

"Oh, and just what kind of game might you have in mind?" questioned the beauty, arching a brow, amethyst orbs gazing seductively at his partner through fluttering eyelashes, as long pale fingers twirled a strand of glossy black hair.

Ikkaku did his best to avoid those alluring eyes, fixedly staring at an unsightly blemish on the wooden floor. He actually, really, truly wanted to play a different kind of game this time. A game which might be identified in the Human World as 'Twenty Questions'.

Supposedly, he had known Yumi since their Rukongai days, yet sometimes, the bald shinigami wondered just how much his lover was keeping from him. As friends, and now as a couple, Ikkaku barely knew anything more than the fifth seat's likes and dislikes, and, well, sweet spots. If that counted. Oh, yes, he knew how to make him moan, scream, beg … But that was part of the problem. Ikkaku shook his head with a growl, rashly punching a hole through the paper thin walls. He could take out his frustration in no other way.

Sometimes he wondered why Yumichika even bothered to interact with him in the first place. Why? It wasn't even worth his time. Did he do it purposefully? Just to make Ikkaku feel even more inferior and insecure? He could imagine Yumi's petite, lithe, graceful form under his own bulky, graceless body. Yumi's soft, creamy alabaster skin as he ran his own rough, scarred hands over it. Every morning, as Ikkaku gently combed his lover's silky ebony locks, he felt a sharp pang at his bald reflection staring back at him through the mirror. But perhaps what tortured him most of all was his smile. No matter when or why, if Yumichika graced the world with his smile's irresistible charm, anyone would melt. Ikkaku, on the other hand, could never manage more than a maniacal grin which drove people away and frightened the little ones to tears. Yes, the third seat wondered almost every moment why Yumi was with him. Was he not disgusted to be even caught near a hideous creature like himself?

The next thing he realized, that very beauty was kneeling in front of him, a concerned gaze boring into his own, warm hands stroking his cheek, tenderly wiping his eyes. Wait - wiping his eyes? Once again, Ikkaku groaned, simultaneously humiliated and infuriated with himself. He, the third seat of the 11th squad, crying? Over such a trivial matter as appearances? No, no, no. All that mattered was strength, power, battle. Yet, even as he tried to convince himself so, Ikkaku knew that this was not true. Somewhere along the way, things had changed. He had changed. Now, all that really mattered was simply Yumichika.

"Ikkaku," softly admonished the said man, breaking his thoughts, "You don't look beautiful when you cry…"

Yumichika gasped in surprise as suddenly, he was pinned down to the cold floor, Ikkaku grasping his wrists tightly with one hand, using the other to support himself over the smaller man.

"Ik-Ikkaku, stop," he whimpered, caught off guard. What had gotten into his beloved, he absolutely could not fathom. Before they had begun to have a romantic relationship, everything had seemed fine. Yet, during the past five months, Yumichika had started to notice Ikkaku changing, and not quite for the better. He would be melancholy, then elated, then melancholy again, and this cycle just kept continuing. If this was how things were going to be, then perhaps it would be better if they went back to simply being good friends. No matter how much it would hurt himself, Yumichika could not stand to see Ikkaku in pain. Battle was one aspect of life, but the heart was entirely another.

Of course, he could see that something was bothering his love. He was no fool. Despite this, as much as he hated to admit it, he was a coward regarding such matters. He could not bring himself to ask just what.

So, at the moment, as Yumichika found himself trapped between the ground and Ikkaku, the latter's salty tears dripping down onto his own face, it was his turn to sigh haplessly. Relinquishing a futile struggle, he resigned himself to glancing anywhere - the walls, the ceiling, the furniture - anywhere except his darling's saddened eyes. However, when Ikkaku eventually loosened the vise like grip on his lover's delicate wrists, he gingerly reached up to caress the sniffling shinigami's face.

Ikkaku shied away, ducking his head to the side as Yumi's fingertips brushed his cheek, leaving a tingling sensation. Perhaps at another time he would have welcomed this gesture, but right now, his heart was wallowing in the depths of self-loathing. He could not stand to dirty those beautiful, dainty hands by tainting them with the touch of his skin.

By this point, Yumichika had really had enough of Ikkaku's childish behaviour. Deserting any efforts to be gentle, the petite man firmly grabbed a calloused hand between his two, and, ignoring the other's half-assed struggle to pull away, held it close to his own heart, hoping that his thick headed Ikkaku would understand that Yumi loved him and only him, come what way. The two sat together in silence, ensnared in a tender embrace, yet, even as the tension in the atmosphere dissipated, Yumichika was uneasy, his mind restless. His dilemma had not yet been settled: To ask. Or not to ask.

His thoughts raced. What if he asked what the problem was but couldn't do anything to help Ikkaku solve it? That would make matters worse, wouldn't it? Ikkaku would hate him - he would lose his confidence in Yumichika, he would stop trusting Yumichika. And then the relationship would end, and what's worse, even their friendship - which had taken decades to build - would be destroyed. Everything that mattered to Yumichika would be obliterated … he was afraid … he didn't want to mess up again, be utterly useless all over again. His pulse quickened, his breath unsteady. Yet, looking at Ikkaku's forlorn expression, Yumichika steeled his nerves and unbeautifully spewed -

"Wassamatta?"

Ikkaku sat up from his resting place on his partner's lap and blinked in confusion.

"Eh?"

Yumichika gulped audibly, sucked in a deep breath, and, bracing himself for the worst, repeated, "What's wrong?"

…

That's it. Two words. And they would change both of their lives forever.

A/N :

Well, that's the end of Part I. Haha, "lives" should really be changed to "afterlives", shouldn't it?

Anyway, in the mean time, reviews are much appreciated! :)